


A Special Kind of Love

by flimflam99



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimflam99/pseuds/flimflam99
Summary: I have so many 'short' stories in my head that I thought I would start a collection of them here.  The first chapter is completely new but I thought I would put 'Allergy' and 'Had a Bad Day' in here too, so apologies if you have already read them.In the first chapter, Sherlock and Molly are just getting used to living together.These are all individual stories.





	1. Serious Consequences

Sherlock was sat in his chair, he had got back home about an hour ago from a case and was in his mind palace filing everything away. He dimly heard the front door bang and the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. He immediately stopped his ‘filing’ and opened his eyes. Molly burst into the room, dropping her huge bag on the floor.

“Thank God for that.” She exclaimed, taking her coat off and hanging it up next to Sherlock’s. She looked at Sherlock and smiled. Sherlock smiled back, opened his arms and she happily bounced onto his lap and hugged him. 

“Hello darling, how was the case?” She asked, dropping a quick kiss on his forehead. Sherlock hugged her back.

“Boring. Wasn’t even a six.” Sherlock moaned before kissing her lingeringly on the mouth. Molly got off his lap and started to take her cardigan off whilst walking towards the bathroom.

“I’m going to have a shower.” She sniffed. “Is that something cooking?” 

“Yes, Mrs Hudson brought up a casserole, it’s keeping warm. I’ll dish it up in a bit once you’ve had a shower.” Sherlock watched Molly disappearing into the bathroom. He grinned to himself. 

He couldn’t believe how much brighter the place was with Molly in it, and how much lighter his heart felt. They’d been together for three months now and Sherlock couldn’t believe how easy it was living with Molly. She made it easy for him and he… well he didn’t want her to get that disappointed look on her face when he did something ‘not good’.

Molly came out of the bathroom, wearing pink pyjamas with tabby cats on. Sherlock got up and went into the Kitchen to dish up the food, he had just finished a case so he was famished. Molly went and sat at the table which was clear of his experiments. 

The experimenting was one of the first times that the phrase ‘serious consequences’ was used. Sherlock was at the table experimenting one day when Molly got home from doing a rare double shift.

“I’m starving. What’s for dinner?” Molly came into the Kitchen and stopped. Sherlock turned round to look at her. Molly’s mouth was wide open as she saw the mess that was the Kitchen. Sherlock looked round as though he could conjure up a meal out of thin air. 

“Oh um….. I forgot. I’m in the middle of an experiment. I’m sure there’s something in the fridge you can heat up.” Molly frowned at him and then moved towards the fridge. There was a squelching noise.

“Careful!” It was already too late. Sherlock looked down at Molly’s foot which was standing in a tray full of maggots. He had quite forgotten he’d put them down on the floor. Sherlock looked up at Molly. Her face was red with fury. 

“Sherlock! Oh it feels disgusting. What the hell were you thinking off putting it on the floor?” Sherlock stood up and put his hand out to her so that she could steady herself as she took her foot out of the tray. He bent down and removed her shoe tossing it in the sink and grabbed some kitchen towel to brush off any stray maggots from her foot. 

“Seriously Sherlock what are you doing?” Molly walked back into the Sitting Room and flung herself on the sofa. She pulled her sock off and inspected her foot for wriggling things.

“Molly? I am sorry, please forgive me?” He squeezed her shoulder and Molly turned to him. Sherlock thought about doing his puppy dog face but then thought better of it. He really was genuinely sorry, he’d forgotten all about her coming home from work. Molly took a deep breath.

“Ok, I forgive you. But please don’t leave your experiments on the floor or there will be serious consequences.” Sherlock nodded and Molly put her head on his chest and he hugged her tight. 

\---------------

“Right, well I’m off to bed, I’m shattered.” Molly put down her book and turned to Sherlock who was sat next to her on the sofa, one arm around her shoulder, eyes shut, ‘thinking’. Molly kissed him briefly on the lips and he smiled. Molly got up and went into the bedroom.

Sherlock sat there for a while longer and then decided to go to bed too. He got ready for bed, brushed his teeth and slipped under the duvet. He turned to Molly and reached out, gently brushing his hand down her arm. Molly twitched.

“Not now Sherlock.” She muttered. Sherlock smiled. Molly liked to tease and would occasionally ‘pretend’ to be not interested and so he had to be a bit more persuasive. Sherlock inched closer to her, putting his arm around her and with his other hand he brushed aside her hair so he could kiss her neck. 

“Sherlock for god’s sake, I said no. Get off me!” Molly yelled. Sherlock froze, his hands dropped. He moved away from her. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you were playing” Sherlock whispered. He got out of bed and went into the Sitting Room and sat in his chair. He didn’t really know what he had done wrong. He went into his mind palace to try and figure it out. Suddenly he became aware that Molly was kneeling in front of him, her hands on his.

“Sherlock!” Sherlock looked up. Molly was staring at him, a look of concern on her face. “Are you ok?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said in a panic stricken voice.

“No, Sherlock, I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m having my monthly um…..” Molly trailed off looking expectantly at Sherlock.

“What? Oh!” Sherlock’s face flushed slightly. 

“I’ve taken some painkillers but well I feel a bit yuck at the moment. Even so I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that.” Molly squeezed his fingers and Sherlock squeezed hers back.

“It’s ok but you should have said something, I thought you were teasing me.” Sherlock said quietly.

“I know. In future I will make it a bit clearer, ok?” Sherlock nodded, then he smiled mischievously. 

“You could say ‘serious consequences’. I always know I’m in trouble when you say that.” Molly laughed and tugged him off the sofa. 

“Let’s go back to bed and you can cuddle me, but not too tight.”

Hand in hand the two of them made their way back to bed.

\---------------------------------------

Sherlock and John made their way up the stairs of 221B, talking quietly. Sherlock opened the door to his flat and stopped dead. Molly was sat in HIS chair wearing HIS coat. She also appeared to be sound asleep. Sherlock looked at John with a horrified expression on his face. John was trying not to laugh. 

“Molly!” Sherlock snapped. In two strides he had reached his chair and grasping Molly’s wrist, he shook her awake.

“Hmm? Sherlock!” Molly quickly sat up and realised in an instant where she was and what she was wearing.

“You’re sat in my chair!” huffed Sherlock. “You’re wearing my coat!” Molly leapt off his chair.

“Sorry, sorry. I um… fell asleep” Molly explained weakly. She glared at John who was crying with laughter.

“And just happened to fall into my coat and onto my chair?” grated Sherlock. “Take it off.” He hissed.

“I c-can’t” stammered Molly now bright red. 

“Take it off or…. or there will be serious consequences” Sherlock yelled. Molly’s face went redder. 

“Believe me there will be serious consequences if I do” Molly retaliated. She wrapped her arms round herself. 

“What do you mean?” Sherlock was suspicious.

“Well, I’m wearing your coat” She looked meaningfully at him and then glanced at John, who must have cottoned on as he was hiding his face in his hands. Sherlock just shrugged. “And nothing else” Molly finished watching Sherlock’s face as he suddenly understood. His face froze staring at her and went into buffering mode. Molly saw him swallow thickly and then he shook his head.

“John – goodbye. Give Mary our love”. John quickly left, they could hear him laughing down the stairs and then Sherlock gathered Molly and his coat in his arms and strode off towards the bedroom.


	2. Allergy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has the sniffles, but why? Pure fluff.

Something was wrong with Molly Hooper. Sherlock eyed her surreptitiously over the microscope in the lab. Molly was in the supply cupboard again, twice in two days. She seemed to be avoiding him. Well, avoid was too strong a word, but she didn’t seem to want to get too close to him the last few days. And if there was one thing Molly seemed to like was being in close proximity to him. Any excuse and she would be standing as close as she could without physically touching him. Sherlock took great delight in occasionally leaning back towards her just to hear her sharp intake of breath as they touched and hear her say ‘sorry’ before moving back. He also loved to stand and read aloud a report in his hands and say ‘oh, look at this Molly’. Of course she couldn’t see it as the paper would be too high for her to read in his hands, so she would reach up and gently push his arm down so that she could see it to read. That made Sherlock smirk.

There had been none of that in the last few days though. Sherlock thought back to Monday when he had dramatically entered the lab as always, coat swishing. Molly had looked up, said hi brightly. He had set up his microscope to look at some samples and requested her help. She had immediately come to him, standing close next to him, almost but not quite touching. Then Molly had had a sneezing fit and had gone into her office to get some tissues. Sherlock thought she was getting a cold.

Tuesday he had arrived at the lab and she had looked up, smiled brightly at him. He had asked her for a report and she had got it and again got in close, to hand him the report and then she had wrinkled her nose and quickly excused herself. Sherlock heard her sneeze as she went into her office.

Wednesday he came in to check some samples and he had stood next to her and just for a second she had looked annoyed, then quickly said hello and went into the supply cupboard with a clipboard, even though she was clearly in the middle of a test. She sneezed.

Today, he had hardly got through the door and she’d disappeared into the supply cupboard at the other end of the room, smiling a hello. Sherlock frowned. She didn’t seem cross with him, was quite happy to talk to him even through the walls of the supply cupboard and when he had texted her last night, had replied swiftly as always. The only thing different today was, no sneezing. Aah….. His cologne. 

He had been given a bottle of duty free cologne from the Watsons when they returned from holiday at the weekend. It wasn’t his usual but Mary had badgered him to wear it. Though he didn’t really mind it, it wasn’t really ‘him’ but he had worn it to please Mary. Was Molly allergic to his cologne? Time to test his theory – Phase 1.

“Molly, I need your help.” Sherlock made sure to sound a bit peeved. He heard a huff from the direction of the supply cupboard and Molly came out and stood as far away as she possibly could from him. Sherlock pretended to frown. “You’ll have to come closer than that. You know I won’t bite.” He quickly controlled the smirk on his face as Molly came and stood next to him. He quickly realised she was holding her breath.

“These two samples, do they look different to you?” He moved aside so she could look in the microscope and made sure to lean in so she could get a good sniff once she decided she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Molly did indeed eventually have to take a deep breath and Sherlock started to mentally count. 1….2…..3….4……5…. 

“A-choo” Molly sneezed. 

“Bless you” Sherlock said automatically before turning and moving away to give her some fresh air. Phase 1 Success!

“I can’t see any difference” Molly stated turning to look at Sherlock quizzically while finding a tissue to blow her nose on.

“That’s good. That’s was I thought” Sherlock answered smiling at her briefly. ‘They’re exactly the same that’s why’ he thought. He made a show of looking at his watch. “Is that the time? I’ve got to go, I said I’d meet John at Baker Street. Thank you Molly” He inclined his head and making his usual dramatic exit, he left the room.

\--------------------------------------------

 

It was time to test Phase 2 of his theory. Sherlock had gone back to Baker Street, had showered and had a complete change of clothes. He’d even got out another one of his coats and sent the other one off to be dry-cleaned. Once he was sure that Molly would be back at home he went to her flat. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow, he was missing his pathologist. 

When Molly opened the door her face immediately fell at the sight of Sherlock standing there. He wasn’t disheartened though. 

“Hello Sherlock. What’s the matter?” Molly didn’t appear too keen to let him in but Sherlock merely put his hand on the door and she stepped back and he came in. He grinned at her.

“Nothing I hope. Just need to test something out” and then he put his arms round Molly and picked her up for a great big hug.

“Sherlock, what are you doing? Put me down!” Molly snapped. Sherlock was muttering under his breath “1….2…..3…..4……5…..6…..7……8…..”. He put Molly down albeit a bit reluctantly. 

“You didn’t sneeze!” Molly stared at him and then took a cautious sniff. Then she smiled. “Why didn’t you tell me, Molly?” Sherlock asked curiously.

“Well I… I didn’t know at first. And it’s not the sort of thing you say is it? I’m allergic to your cologne.” Molly stuttered, looking down at the ground. “You don’t have to stop wearing it because of me though.”

“Yes I do” Sherlock contradicted her flatly. Molly looked back up surprised. “I missed you” Sherlock said in his very low sexy voice. Molly flushed. “I’ve found I’ve got used to you being close to me, Molly” and with that he brought his hands up to cradle her face and gently kissed her on the mouth. Molly moaned and pulled his head down to hers further to deepen the kiss and Sherlock was quite happy to go along with that………………

\-----------------------------------------

John’s phone pinged. He picked it up.

“TELL MARY SORRY CAN’T WEAR COLOGNE, MOLLY ALLERGIC TO IT. SH”

John stared at his phone. He raised his eyebrows.

“Mary?” Mary was cuddled next to him on the sofa. She was feeling the baby moving inside her.

“Yes, love?”

“I’ve had a text from Sherlock. That cologne we got him, he says he can’t use it as Molly’s allergic to it.”

“Oh that’s a shame. Never mind” Mary’s face split into a big grin. John wasn’t looking.

“Well I don’t see what the fuss is about, does it matter if Molly’s allergic to it?” He turned to Mary who was still grinning away. “Woah. You don’t mean……….. Sherlock and Molly? No.” He shook his head and then laughed disbelievingly.

“Why do you think I bought it? Molly told me ages ago she was allergic to that cologne. And I’ve seen Sherlock with her, he loves the way she gets too close to him. He just needed a nudge.”

“That is wicked Mary. Poor Molly!” Then he hugged his wife to him as they both laughed together.

Meanwhile ‘Poor Molly’ lay in her bed wrapped in Sherlock’s arms smiling contentedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to me after spending all week sneezing every time my boss came into work wearing his new aftershave. My friend said to me, he'd come in, she'd count to five and then I'd sneeze! Then I thought Sherlock would have noticed if it had been him and so another fic has been born! Hope you enjoy.


	3. Had a Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly Hooper will do anything for Sherlock. But how will he react when Molly has a bad day? I had the song Bad Day by Daniel Powter going through my head writing this.

Sherlock was in the Kitchen pouring himself some coffee when he heard the front door slam and then footsteps running up the stairs. He glanced round, and seeing it was Molly turned back to pouring the coffee.

“Hello Molly, coffee?” He didn’t wait for an answer and started searching for another cup when he felt Molly touch his arm. He didn’t realise that she had come so close to him.

“Sherlock, can I have a hug?” Molly whispered.

Sherlock froze. Oh God how I want to say yes, he thought. But I can’t.

“Molly” He answered warningly instead. Molly’s hand dropped from his arm and she moved away from him. She sniffed.

“Thanks” she answered moving into the Sitting Room.

Sherlock turned, a frown on his face, Molly had her back to him and had gone to stand at the window.

“W-Why are you thanking me?” He stuttered.

“For nothing” she answered bitterly. There was a long pause. Molly still stood looking out of the window and Sherlock came across and put the coffees on the table. Something wasn’t right….

“I thought we were friends” Molly continued, talking to the window, looking down at the street below.

“We are friends” answered Sherlock.

“It’s a bit of a one sided friendship though isn’t it?” Molly laughed shakily. “When have I ever refused you anything, Sherlock? But when I need you……….. You’re not the only one who sometimes needs a bolt hole.”

She finally turned to him and time seemed to slow down for Sherlock as he observed her. Molly was pale, close to tears, her hands shaking. Her ponytail was coming undone and she hadn’t done her cardigan up properly. 

He thought back to a few moments before when he saw her at the door. Even though it was cold outside she was carrying her coat, not wearing it. Going even further back, he’d heard the taxi pull up outside. Molly never took a taxi unless it was late at night, or if he wanted her urgently. So this was urgent. But urgent for her not for him. And all she’d asked for was a hug.

Sherlock suddenly understood. She’d had a bad day at work and she had come to him. Had come running to him and he had brushed her off. Sherlock suddenly felt like crying himself, that the woman he cared for and adored most had come to him, because she needed him.

“Oh just forget it” Molly brushed passed him and went to pick up her coat.

“Molly, wait”. Molly stopped in the process of picking up her coat. Sherlock walked over to her and putting his arms around her waist, pulled her into his chest. He held her tightly and she put her head on his chest and began to cry. He stroked her hair gently. When Molly finally pulled away from him, he took her face in his hands and (oh how he wanted to kiss her lips) gently kissed her forehead. He pulled them both onto the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Now, tell me why you’ve had a bad day.”


	4. Run To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is trying her hardest to get over her feelings for Sherlock, but things take a different turn after a nasty event.

Molly ran up the street towards 221B Baker Street, her breath coming out in gasps, her hands clutching her torn coat to her. She didn’t look back but raced on stumbling occasionally on the pavement. She was almost at the door. She reached out for the door handle but at the last minute decided just to bang on the door. ‘Please be in, please be in, someone, anyone be in’ she muttered. She didn’t stop hammering on the door even though she could hear someone thundering down the stairs, she didn’t stop until the door actually started opening.

“Molly! What the hell……” 

“Let me in, let me in” Molly practically shoved Sherlock out of the way to get inside. “Shut the door!” she yelled at him. Sherlock slammed the door shut, he turned and Molly flung herself into his arms, grabbing his shirt to keep herself upright when her knees started to buckle. Sherlock grabbed her round the waist to steady her. Molly started to shake, hot tears ran down her face, soaking into Sherlock’s expensive white shirt.

“Molly, what’s happened?” Sherlock spoke quietly, stroking her back. Molly couldn’t answer. Sherlock put one of his hands up to hers to try and get her to stop clutching his shirt so tightly when he felt the metal around her wrist. He pulled away in shock and Molly, without him holding her up, promptly sank to the floor. Sherlock only just managing to stop her from banging her head on the carpet. He knelt next to her pulling her up against him into a sitting position. He couldn’t stop staring at her wrist, the handcuff around it and the other half dangling outside her coat.

“Why is your wrist handcuffed, Molly?” Molly muttered something indecipherable. Sherlock stared down at her, looking her over. It was then that he noticed her feet, she was barefoot and the soles of her feet were bleeding over the hall carpet. Sherlock sucked in a breath. She’d obviously been held against her will somewhere.

“Bloody hell, Molly what’s happened to your feet?” Sherlock stood up, bent over, and picked her up before carrying her up the stairs to his flat and settling her on the sofa. He knelt before her forcing her to look at him. Molly’s eyes looked out of focus and she was still shivering. 

“Molly, did they hurt you?” Sherlock asked urgently. Molly shook her head and Sherlock gently examined her feet. Both of them were bloody but one of them was worse than the other and it looked like she had stepped on a piece of glass. He quickly texted both Lestrade and John and then he fetched a towel and a blanket. He placed the towel on the sofa onto which he lifted her feet and then he put the blanket round her.

“Molly, tell me what happened”. Sherlock looked at her, he was concerned as she appeared to be falling asleep. He suspected she may have been drugged. He gently shook her shoulder. He needed to get information and fast.

“Molly, what happened?” She opened her eyes. 

“Don’t know. Woke up in this grotty basement flat in Siddons Lane. There’s a green car outside it.” Molly started to grow drowsy again. Sherlock shook her shoulder again. 

“How did you get out?” He asked urgently. 

“When I woke up I was sat in a wooden chair and he had handcuffed me to the back of it. But the back was broken so I just had to slide the cuff off it and then I broke the window with the chair and scrambled out. I couldn’t believe I was so close to Baker Street so I just ran for it.”

“Did you see who it was Molly?” Molly shook her head. Her eyes started to close again so Sherlock let her go to sleep.

\-------------------------------------------

It was almost two hours later and Molly was starting to get really cheesed off. It seemed like half of London had crammed themselves into Sherlock’s Sitting Room. Everybody was extremely pleased with themselves at having caught Molly’s kidnapper and were talking quite loudly amongst themselves. 

Molly just wanted to go home and go to sleep. She was still feeling the effects of the drug, although John told her it should wear off soon. He had arrived not long after Lestrade who Molly had been questioned by. Greg had then gone off with Sherlock and several police officers to where Molly had been taken, leaving John to give Molly the once over and tend to her feet. Mary had arrived and Molly had to tell her story all over again and then to Mrs Hudson after she came back from her Zumba class.

Sherlock had then come back and announced that the kidnapper had been found and arrested. It turned out to be an intern from Barts who quite fancied Molly and decided to kidnap her, and then be the one to ‘rescue’ her so that she would think him a hero. Molly had rolled her eyes at that. Now everybody seemed to be back and they were all in high spirits, well, all except Sherlock who was sat in his chair staring into space. Molly had had enough, she was going to go home. She didn’t want to stay in Sherlock’s flat any longer than necessary.

She started to get up off the sofa, only her legs still didn’t seem to be working. She sank back down again. She really needed to go to the loo as well. She could feel Sherlock staring at her, she was determined not to look back at him though so she leaned back on the sofa and shut her eyes.

“Ok, fun’s over everyone. Time to go. Yes, yes you too Mrs Hudson. Molly needs to rest. Good night everyone.” Sherlock started ushering everyone out. He gave Mary and Mrs Hudson a hug and clapped John and Lestrade on the shoulder as they left. He shut the door and turned to Molly who couldn’t believe how fast Sherlock had cleared the room.

“I really need the loo” Molly muttered more to herself and struggled once again to get up off the sofa. Sherlock held out a hand and helped her, holding her steady as she limped to and from the Bathroom back to the sofa. 

“Do you have any thick socks I could borrow?” asked Molly. Sherlock turned to her surprised.

“I expect I can find some. Are your feet cold then?” Sherlock turned to go into his bedroom. Molly laughed half-heartedly.

“No. I thought I could wear them home. If you don’t mind getting me a taxi, only it’s getting late and I’m really tired.” Molly explained in a rush. Sherlock frowned.

“You can’t go home now Molly. You’re in no fit state. You need somebody to look after you at least until that drug gets out of your system.” He huffed.

“I’m fine, Sherlock. I don’t need looking after, I just need to sleep it off.” Molly was adamant. She was not going to stay here. Sherlock crossed his arms and glared at her.

“Don’t be silly, Molly. How are you going to get up all those flights of stairs to get to your flat? I’m certainly not carrying you. It was bad enough carrying you up one flight let alone four.” Sherlock retorted. Molly glared at him. How dare he? Sherlock carried on regardless. “No, you can sleep in my room, can’t use John’s as I have an umm….. experiment up there. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Sherlock smiled as though satisfied with the solution. Molly wasn’t having that but it was true that she would never be able to get up the stairs to her flat.

“No. I’ll sleep on the sofa. I’m not sleeping in your bed Sherlock.” And with that Molly covered herself with the blanket, turned towards the back of the sofa and settled herself down. “Goodnight Sherlock.” Sherlock grunted and then she heard his bedroom door shut. 

Five minutes later the door opened again. Molly was already half asleep and was more than annoyed at being shaken awake by Sherlock.

“What?” She snapped.

“I got you some pyjamas. They’ll be too big but more comfortable than what you’re wearing at the moment.” Sherlock explained. Molly sat up and stared at him and then at her bandaged feet.

“How do you propose I get undressed? I don’t think I can get my jeans over the bandages. I’ll be fine as I am.” Molly stated flatly. Sherlock knelt on the floor in front of her.

“I’ll help. Just undo your buttons and lift your bum up. I’ll do the rest.” He assured her. 

“Sherlock. I’m not getting undressed in front of you!” She yelled. Sherlock looked hurt and a bit confused.

“I’m only trying to help. Don’t you trust me?” He spoke softly. Molly closed her eyes. ‘It’s me I don’t trust’ she thought. She opened her eyes to see Sherlock looking at her with concern.

“Oh ok.” She muttered. She undid the button, lowered the zip and then lifted her bum up. Sherlock’s hands deftly drew her jeans down her legs and over her feet and put his pyjama bottoms on for her. He handed her the top and left her to do that bit herself. Molly threw her clothes on the floor. She had to admit she did feel a lot better in the looser clothing. She settled down again and went off to sleep only vaguely aware of Sherlock turning the light off and whispering good night.

\-----------------

When Molly awoke, the first thing she felt was incredibly warm and snug. The second thing she felt was something lying across her middle against her skin. Molly turned her head to look over her shoulder. She was lying in Sherlock’s bed and Sherlock was cuddled into her back, his arm slung over her waist, his hand lying underneath her pyjama top. Molly froze. Sherlock was snoring gently, his breath puffing on her neck, nose buried in her hair. She tried to move away but Sherlock tightened his hold and then began to rub his thumb over her skin. Molly bit her lip, God this was torture. 

How the hell did she get here? She’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Sherlock must have moved her for whatever reason. Molly shut her eyes and tried to ignore the caress of Sherlock’s thumb. Yet another memory, another sensation she would never be able to get rid of. Even though she tried, was still trying, so very hard to get over him, and she hated him for doing this to her, she was the one who would suffer because she would never forget this moment, the thrill of being held by him and it was all his fault. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? 

She suddenly moved her hand and put it over his, stilling his thumb and pulling his hand away. Sherlock gripped her fingers.

“What are you doing?” Molly jumped at the sound of Sherlock’s voice. 

“I think that’s my line” croaked Molly. She freed her fingers and pushing his arm away, pulled back the covers to get up.

“I was cuddling you” Molly could her the smirk in his voice. “It was nice.” Molly slung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

“Where are you going?” asked Sherlock sleepily. 

“Home.” Molly stated tearfully. She stumbled into the hallway, ignoring the pain in her feet, making her way into the Sitting Room to collect her coat and her bag which Lestrade had found and given back to her. She didn’t bother getting dressed and turned to leave only to find herself facing one very cross consulting detective. He stood in front of the door blocking her escape.

“Can I get passed please” Molly whispered hoarsely. Sherlock took a step towards her, his eyes scrutinising her. 

“What’s wrong, Molly?” He asked. 

“I want to go home” Molly said flatly. She felt as though she was either going to burst into tears or throw up, maybe both. 

“You’ve been off with me for weeks, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Now spit it out, Molly and tell me what’s wrong!” It was the wrong thing to say. Molly’s chin went up and her face flushed with anger. She moved to push passed him but he just grabbed her by the shoulders, gathering her to him. Molly pushed him away.

“Don’t touch me!” She yelled. Sherlock stiffened and immediately his arms fell to his sides. Molly looked up at him. She saw the hurt in his face for a second before his face froze into a cold mask.

“Forgive me. I didn’t realise my touch was so abhorrent to you.” He said coldly.

“Abhorrent?” Molly gasped. “You just don’t understand do you Sherlock? I don’t want you to touch me because I find you abhorrent, it’s because I love you and it hurts every time you touch me. How do you think I’m going to get over knowing what it feels like to lie in your arms? Why did you do it?”

“You were having a bad dream, you nearly rolled off the sofa. I was trying to look after you. I care for you Molly.” Sherlock grunted. Molly laughed shakily, her feet were throbbing and her head hurt. Her eyes filled with tears and she bent her head, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“I know you do, you care for me as a friend and I appreciate it but you need to understand that there are boundaries which you cannot cross.”

“Molly….”

“Like us sleeping in bed together…”

“But Molly….”

“And you holding me like that, well it’s not appropriate……….”

“Molly!”

“And stop looking at me like, well…, the way you’re looking at me now. Because it’s not fair, Sherlock.”

“MOLLY, will you shut up?” Sherlock exclaimed in frustration. Molly shut her mouth with a snap. He moved towards her but didn’t touch her, he put his hands behind his back. “I care for you as more than just a friend.” He bent his head down, looking at the floor, his words a mere whisper. He suddenly looked up at her, a vulnerable honesty in his face, his blue sapphire eyes glimmering with moisture. “I’ve missed you these last few weeks, I’ve missed your smile, your laughter, your beautiful face and just now, holding you, I didn’t want to let you go. And for the record it’s something I could never forget even if I wanted to.”

Molly stared at him, almost but not quite believing his sincerity. She reached out towards him and he bent towards her, letting her caress his face with her fingers. He closed his eyes as she grabbed his shirt with her other hand to steady herself, she stood on tiptoes to place her mouth on his. She couldn’t quite reach and she huffed in frustration and the pain from her feet.

“Sherlock! Pick me up, my feet hurt”. She pleaded. He immediately swept her up in his arms carrying her to the sofa and settling her on his lap. 

“Is this ok?” He murmured, Molly responded by placing her mouth on his and kissing him. Sherlock kissed her back thoroughly. 

“Molly…” He murmured when they drew back for breath. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her forehead. “You frightened the hell out of me today, even if you were only kidnapped by an imbecile, it scared me so much the thought of losing you. That’s why I wanted to hold you, to have you with me, in my bed, just to know that you were still there.” He kissed her again passionately and Molly responded by moving even closer to him, slipping one hand under his top, the other through his curls at the nape of his neck, drawing him to her. They paused for breath again and she buried her face in his neck, pressing light kisses on him. 

“I love you, Molly” He whispered so softly as though he was afraid to say it. Molly smiled snuggling into his chest, her eyes shutting. 

“I love you too” She murmured sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another fic of mine which turned out differently to what I was anticipating........ Hope you enjoy.


	5. Wherever You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Sherlock faked his death, Molly has hated Christmas even more. So she decides not to have anything to do with it.

It was Christmas Eve and Molly was huddled under a blanket on her sofa, glass of wine in her hand, huge bar of chocolate and a family sized bag of crisps sat next to her. She was watching ‘Pooh’s Grand Adventure’ on DVD. Molly sighed to herself. The room was in darkness apart from the light of the TV. There were no Christmas lights, no decorations and no tree. This year was going to be a ‘hide under the duvet and pretend Christmas didn’t happen’ year. 

Molly thought back to last year, the first year after Sherlock pretended to fall off Bart’s roof. That year she had gone out and got so drunk on Christmas Eve she couldn’t remember how she got home and spent all of Christmas Day being sick in the toilet. That was pretty bad but still not as bad as the previous year when she had gone round for drinkies at Baker Street and been subjected to Sherlock’s deduction skills. This year she was just going to stay at home and have nothing to do with Christmas. Molly settled down to watch Disney’s Winnie the Pooh. Nothing bad ever happens in the Hundred Acre Wood.

Three quarters of an hour later and Molly was in tears listening to the saddest song she had ever heard. Molly kept playing the DVD back and hearing the song again and finally downloaded the song onto her Ipod. She couldn’t get the song out of her head. It was so sad.

“Come out moon  
Come out wishing star  
Come out  
Come out  
Wherever you are  
I'm out here in the dark  
All alone and wide awake  
Come and find me  
I'm empty and I'm cold  
And my heart's about to break  
Come and find me  
I need you to come here and find me  
Cause without you I'm totally lost  
I've hung a wish on every star  
It hasn't done much good so far  
I can only dream of you  
Wherever you are”

It reminded her of Sherlock, that he was out there all alone single-handedly taking down Moriarty’s network. She hadn’t heard from him since the day that he left her flat, after enfolding her gently in his arms and kissing her breathless. He had been remarkably affectionate in the days after his fall, kissing and cuddling her and snuggling up to her in bed, even though they hadn’t gone any further than ‘snuggling’. Molly hadn’t known what to think but she knew Sherlock needed her then and she had gladly helped her friend in any way she could.

Molly needed to get out of the flat. The winter had been mild and her flat seemed unbearably hot so she decided to go for a walk. She didn’t take any notice of where she was going and was quite surprised to find that her feet had taken her to St. Barts. When she realised where she was she knew exactly where to go next and made her way up to the roof where Sherlock had faked his death. The view was wonderful. Seeing London all lit up was magical. Molly settled herself down, took out her Ipod and began to sing along to the saddest song that expressed exactly how she felt.

“I'll hear you laugh  
I'll see you smile  
I'll be with you just for a while  
But when the morning comes  
And the sun begins to rise  
I'll lose you  
Because it's just a dream  
When I open up my eyes  
I'll lose you  
I used to believe in forever  
But forever is to good to be true  
I've hung a wish on every star  
It hasn't done much good so far  
I don't know what else to do  
Except to try to dream of you  
And wonder if you are dreaming to  
Wherever you are”

Molly started to sing quietly to herself, tears rolling down her face, eyes shut as she remembered every single moment she’d spent with Sherlock Holmes. Even the horrible moments were so precious to her now. She didn’t even know if he was alive. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there, singing to herself, feeling more and more miserable. She suddenly stood up and went to the edge of the building, looking down, seeing how far Sherlock must have fallen. How difficult did Sherlock find it to jump? she mused, stepping onto the ledge herself and looking down. He must have been scared. Scared that it would all go wrong.

Suddenly an arm went round her waist and she was lifted off the ledge and put firmly down well away from the edge. Molly looked up at her ‘rescuer’, looked up into the stormy eyes of Sherlock Holmes. A very cross looking Sherlock Holmes.

“Sherlock! You’re back!” Molly cried, flinging her arms round him and hugging him. Sherlock growled at her, pulling her away from him, holding her by the shoulders.

“Molly, please tell me you weren’t just about to jump off the roof?” Sherlock grated. Molly stared at him. 

“Don’t be daft, I was just ………. looking.” Molly didn’t want to admit she was thinking about him. Sherlock frowned at her.

“Looking? Am I supposed to believe that? I’ve been watching you singing along to that… what is that song? Anyway it doesn’t matter. You were crying and then you stood on the ledge looking like you were about to jump off.” Sherlock squeezed her shoulders before letting go of her. 

“I was thinking about you.” Molly whispered sitting back down next to her Ipod. Sherlock sat next to her and she reached out and grabbed his hand. She just wanted to touch him, make sure he was real. She played with his fingers and surprisingly Sherlock let her. “That song it reminded me of you, of us. I wanted you to come and find me.” She looked at Sherlock who, not having listened to the song, didn’t have a clue what she was on about. So he picked up her Ipod, plugged in an earpiece and started listening to the song. Molly sat back waiting for him to finish. He unplugged the earpiece and gathered Molly to him, cradling her to his chest, kissing the top of her head.

“Is it over? Are you back for good?” Molly whispered. 

“It’s over and I’ve come to find you, you don’t need to hang a wish on every star” Sherlock rumbled in her ear. Molly pulled back from him, she wiped her eyes and stood up.

“That’s good.” She walked away from him and she heard him stand up too.

“Molly?” Sherlock stood next to her, holding her arm and pulling her to face him. His hand came up and stroked her cheek. Molly stared at him watching as his face came closer to hers and then he kissed her, slowly and gently. Then he hugged her.

“Let’s listen to your sad song again, shall we?” And they both sat down an earpiece each, huddling together for warmth and stealing kisses and Molly knew that this would forever be their special song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think 'Wherever You Are' is such a sweet, sad song. Especially since it is about a boy and his bear. I needed a sad Sherlolly story with a happy ending after a few horrible days. Also I'm starting to feel sorry for Molly in the stories where she is hugged tightly by Sherlock. 
> 
> No copyright infringement intended, I own nothing but the aches and pains!


	6. Who Would You Choose?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly asks Sherlock a question and doesn't get the answer she was expecting. After TFP. 
> 
> Mentions getting shot and I have used a swear word.

Molly thumped up the stairs into 221B Baker Street. She could still hear Mrs Hudson downstairs muttering to herself after Molly had pushed passed her with a brusque ‘Excuse me, I need to see Sherlock’ before running up the stairs. She slammed open the half open door and Sherlock who was sat at his desk working on his laptop jumped in fright. He half opened his mouth but Molly jumped in straight away.

“Just where do you get off Sherlock?” She went up to him and poked him in the chest with her finger. Sherlock looked at her, mouth still hanging open. He closed it and swallowed, looking nervously at her finger still poking into his chest.

“What?” He answered.

“Everywhere I go, he is there. He comes into the morgue, I go to the pub and there he is. God help me if I have more than a couple of glasses of wine, he then starts shaking his head at me and he never speaks. His car follows me home and if it’s not him, it’s that woman. She came into the hairdressers with me and had her hair done. It’s got to stop Sherlock!” Molly emphasised her point by jabbing him again in the chest. Sherlock flinched. He pulled his chair back and got up, leaving a respectable distance between Molly and himself. 

“Who’s following you?” Sherlock frowned at her. Molly laughed derisively.

“Don’t give me that, Sherlock. You know damn well who.” She snapped. She moved closer to him and Sherlock hurriedly stepped back, absentmindedly rubbing his chest.

“Actually Molly, I really have no idea who you are talking about. As you said the other day what you do is none of my business and I have actually done what you asked me to do which was to ‘piss of’”. Sherlock stared at her for a moment, eyebrows raised, before turning away, taking the poker and stoking up the fire.

“Mycroft. I’m talking about Mycroft. Everywhere I go, there he is or that Anthea woman. He’s always frowning at me, especially if I’m talking to a man. I can’t turn round without one of them being there. I’m surprised I haven’t found one of them jumping out of a body bag.”

“Nothing to do with me Molly but I’ll speak to him. It won’t happen again.” Sherlock was talking to the fireplace. His head bent so that Molly couldn’t see his face in the mirror. She just stood there, totally flummoxed with Sherlock’s attitude. She was so determined to have it out with him that it quite took the wind out of her sails that he really didn’t seem to know what she was talking about or even to care. He seemed so lifeless. 

Sherlock turned round seeming surprised that she was still there. “I’ll sort it Molly. I am sorry if he has been hassling you. Don’t let me keep you.” He turned back to the fire, putting his hands together behind his back. Molly could see his fingers twitching.

“Are you OK?” Molly asked moving closer to him. Sherlock let out a short huff of laughter. He didn’t turn to her.

“I’m fine Molly. Really, really fine.” Sherlock’s fingers still twitched. Molly put her hand out, placing it over his fingers. He instantly stopped, dropping his hands to his sides, sliding them into the pockets of his dressing gown. Molly’s hand fell back to her side.

“What is the matter, Sherlock? Please tell me, maybe I can help?”

Sherlock finally looked at her. His face was red from the fire, but his eyes were dull. 

“Why do you care?” He asked with a growl. He took a step closer to her so she had to look up at him.

“Well, of course I care, Sherlock……..” Molly began.

“If you care about someone do you normally tell them to ‘piss off’?” Sherlock questioned. Molly flushed and hung her head.

“Sherlock, I’m……….” But Sherlock hadn’t finished.

“If you care about someone do you call security and get them thrown out of your lab? Do you normally get a scalpel and rip holes in their coat?” Sherlock took hold of her chin and tipped her head up so that she had to face him. “I told you that I loved you, that you meant the world to me” He whispered the words to her, his head bent so close to hers that their lips were almost touching. “I told you that I wanted to be with you until the end of my days”. 

“And yet you still chose John over me.” Molly bit out, pushing his hand away and taking a step back. Sherlock’s face grew cold again. He moved back to his laptop and sat down, eyes glued to the screen. Molly took that for a hint and turned to leave.

“Who would you choose, Molly?” Molly turned to see Sherlock watching her an impassive look on his face.

“What?” Molly frowned at him.

“Choose, Molly. John or me. You have to shoot one of us so who would you let live? Oh and same conditions as you gave me, you can’t decide to shoot yourself.”

“Well, obviously I’d choose…….”

“Think Molly, think. Think about the consequences of your deed.” Sherlock snapped at her. Molly bit her lip, thinking. Then her eyes went wide as realisation dawned. 

“I’d choose John” she whispered, suddenly feeling sick. She sat on the sofa putting her head in her hands.

“Why?” Sherlock demanded. He’d stood up and was standing over her. 

“Rosie.” Molly whispered the baby’s name. “God, I am so sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn’t have asked such a stupid question and I’ve been so horrible to you since.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything, just threw himself next to her on the sofa. Molly was sat perched on the edge, head still in her hands. Sherlock put his hand out and started rubbing her back gently.

“It’s ok, Molly.” Molly’s head whipped round to face him. 

“What? No! No it’s not ok. I’ve been a right cow. How can you say it’s ok?” Molly scrambled up inelegantly off the sofa, grabbed her bag from the floor and made a dash for the door. Sherlock leapt off the sofa and caught hold of her wrist before she could escape. 

“Molly. It is ok.” He pulled her towards him and gently enfolded her in his arms. “I know why you said it, you wanted me to prove I love you more than I love John. Which I do. I love John like a brother but you are the most precious thing in the world to me. But what you asked me has nothing to do with love and everything to do with responsibility. If I shot John, Rosie would have no parents at all.” Sherlock sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry. I just find it difficult to believe you actually feel something for me.” Molly hid her face in his dressing gown.

“I’m not surprised after the way I’ve treated you in the past. It’s quite a large step to take for both of us.” He kissed the top of her head and Molly looked up at him at last, his face inches from hers. He kissed the tip of her nose before kissing her mouth. They finally broke apart and Sherlock led her to the sofa where they sat side by side, cuddling one another.

“I still don’t understand Mycroft though” Molly looked at Sherlock, who had a slight smile on his face.

“I told Mycroft what you asked me, how upset you were when I chose John. He wanted to go and talk to you but I told him not to. I think he kept showing up around you just to prove a point. At the end of the day I would rather kill myself than to choose between two people that I love.” Sherlock stared at her with a hunger in his eyes before kissing her swiftly on the mouth. “You would do the same too, Molly.” Molly shook her head. “Yes, you would.” He disagreed. He kissed her again, more passionately until Molly broke away.

“I am sorry about calling security on you and what I did to your coat. Will you forgive me?” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Sherlock cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, see the quizzical look in his eyes.

“I thought I’d already said that. How many times have you forgiven me over the years for doing a lot worse? Of course I forgive you. Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So why was Sherlock going to choose to save John over Mycroft? Was it really just down to who he liked more? I suppose we'll never really know the answer.


	7. Kiss and Make Up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly are embarking on a new relationship. Sherlock is bound to get something wrong, right?

Sherlock eased himself gently off Molly and lay next to her, pulling her into his side. They lay there for a few minutes getting their breath back and then Molly got up muttering something about ‘not wanting to sleep wearing this’. 

Sherlock watched her as she made her way into the Bathroom. He was puzzled though. It wasn’t quite as great as he thought it would be. Even Molly seemed confused when he put the idea to her which was surprising considering some of the adventurous suggestions he’d had in the last few months since they had started being a ‘thing’. Suggestions which she had willingly participated in, she’d even come up with some notions of her own. 

Sherlock was still thinking about it when Molly came back out of the bathroom, slipping back into bed, she snuggled into him, nuzzling his neck with her nose, kissing his shoulder and sighing with contentment before settling down to sleep. 

It was no good, something wasn’t right.

“Do you think we did something wrong, Molly?” Sherlock queried.

“What do you mean?” Molly murmured sleepily.

“Well John said that Mary and he had fantastic makeup sex but I can’t help feeling that it wasn’t as exceptional as I thought it would be”. Sherlock stopped, thoughts running through his head about where it had gone wrong. He was not aware that Molly had turned away from him.

“Oh Jesus!” Sherlock suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t suppose I was meant to wear it do you?” He turned to Molly and only then became aware that she was turned away from him, head buried in her pillow, her shoulders heaving. Oh god, now he’d made her cry. He put his arm comfortingly around her and pulled her back against him.

“Molly, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to imply that you had done anything wrong, it was probably my fault.” He whispered comfortingly to her. Molly let out a snort and it was only then that Sherlock realised she was laughing and not crying, well crying tears of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?” Sherlock pouted at her, not liking being laughed at.

“Oh you goose.” Molly snorted again as she sat up and hugged her sulking partner. “Make-up sex isn’t about cosmetics. I wondered where you got the idea from. Christ you had me made up looking like a cross between a geisha girl and a clown.” Molly started giggling again. Sherlock was getting annoyed.

“Well, what is it then?” He huffed. 

“You know when you cut up my favourite stripey jumper and then hid it from me?” Molly raised her eyebrows at him. Sherlock moved uncomfortably. He remembered that only too well.

“How could I forget? You made me sleep on the sofa for three nights.” He grumbled. “But I did buy you that really nice cashmere jumper and a new wool coat.” Molly nodded.

“And I forgave you and then we kissed and made up.” Molly said encouragingly. Sherlock nodded thinking.

“Yes and you let me sleep with you again.” Sherlock winked at her.

“Exactly. We made up and made love. That’s called make-up sex. That’s what John was talking about.”

Sherlock eyes went wide with realisation. What a prat he'd been. He looked almost shyly at Molly who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He started to grin too and then they both laughed. 

They settled down again and Molly was almost asleep.

“Molly? What do I have to do for you not to tell Mary and John?” Molly laughed, reaching up and kissing his cheek.

“Oh I’ll think of something.” She promised before snuggling back into him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Short and sweet as it is. Idea came to me last night and I just had to write it!


	8. Mister Holmes Meets His Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly meets a new friend. 
> 
> WARNING Mention of cat death at the start.

It was a week after that horrible day. The day that started with Molly having to have her beloved cat Toby put to sleep and ended with Sherlock forcing her to expose her biggest secret, that she loved him, she had always loved him. Oh, John had come around to explain the next day about what happened at Sherrinford. Sherlock and Mycroft had gone to their parents for a few days and John told Molly that Sherlock would be in touch with her when he got back. Which left her as much in the dark as before.

Molly's phone rang. It was her friend Clarissa. Molly had spoken to her a few days ago to tell her about Toby. Clarissa worked at the local pet rehoming centre which is where Molly had got Toby several years ago.

“Hi Molly, how are you bearing up?” Clarissa must have been at work as Molly could hear dogs barking in the background. 

“I’m ok thanks but I miss Toby, it's so quiet without him.” Molly tried to sound positive but it was difficult.

“I know it's hard. Molly, I was ringing to ask you for a favour.” Clarissa sounded hesitant.

“You know i’ll help if I can” responded Molly.

“Well I wondered if you wouldn't mind fostering a cat which we have had with us for some time. He’s a handsome Maine Coon grey and white cat but he can be a bit standoffish. We're having trouble rehoming him and I just thought that if he were seen in a home setting that he might stand a better chance.”

“Oh I don't know Rissa, it's a bit soon after Toby.”

“Please Molly, at least come and see him. I don't know what we can do otherwise.” Clarissa sounded desperate.

“Oh. Well ok. I'll come this afternoon, I'll see you then”.

——————————————-

Molly walked into the rehoming centre and met her friend Clarissa. She took her to the last cat cell. 

“Molly, this is Finlay.” Finlay was gorgeous but he was quite a large cat. He was grey and white and very furry. He was lying stretched out on his cat bed. Molly went over to him. She reached over and gently touched the tips of his fur, he turned his head towards her and the expression on his face made her freeze. The look of disdain said it all. ‘Touch me again and you are dead’. Molly hastily dropped her hand.

“Oh!” Molly exclaimed. Clarissa laughed.

“See what I mean? It's a shame as he’s a lovely looking cat. You will take him, won't you Molly? He might settle more in a one on one situation.”

Molly nodded, Finlay glared at her with his cold green eyes before the two friends left for Clarissa’s office to settle down and fill in the forms for Molly to foster Finlay.

—————————————-

Molly took a cab back to her flat and the driver was helpful enough to help her up to her flat with Finlay. He was quite heavy. Luckily Molly hadn't got rid of Toby’s food so she gave him something to eat and showed him where his litter tray was. Every time she went to touch him he would give her that look though. Molly sighed. She brought out an old eiderdown she had in her closet for him to sleep on. He looked at it disdainfully before jumping on the sofa and spreading himself out. Molly sighed again before settling herself in her favourite armchair.

—————————-

Molly was just dozing off when her phone beeped. She groaned as she realized who it was. It was Sherlock. Of all the days to decide to contact her. She picked up her phone.

“Can I come over? SH.” Well no, thought Molly i’m trying to settle Finlay in. So without thinking that is what she texted him back.

“It’s not a good time at the moment. I’ve got Finlay with me”.

There was a pause.

“I can come round after ‘Finlay’ leaves. SH.”

It was only then that Molly realized that Sherlock didn't know who Finlay was and that he thought he was a man and that Molly had a date. Molly was a nice kindhearted girl but she had put up with a lot from Sherlock over the years with his high and mighty ways and a bit of the devil rose up in her. She texted back.

“Finlay staying the night. I'll phone you tomorrow Sherlock”. And with that she turned her phone off.

—————————————

Unbeknownst to Molly the following text messages were sent between Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.

“Who is Finlay? And why do I not know Molly is seeing him? SH”

Mycroft’s eyes widened. Who the hell is Finlay? He quickly accessed the hidden camera outside Molly's flat. When he realized who Finlay was, Mycroft grinned. He texted Sherlock back.

“He is no danger to Molly. I've run a check on him, he is clean and seems a nice enough chap.”

“I should have been informed. SH”.

“It seems to have been love at first sight” Mycroft laughed to himself. There was no further response from Sherlock.

—————————————-

 

Molly was just settling down to watch a DVD when she heard the unmistakable sound of her front door lock being picked. She was half expecting this which is why she had made the unusual step of making sure that the door between her hallway and Sitting Room was shut. She didn't want Finlay to escape. Although looking at him lounging on her sofa she didn't think he would do something so energetic!

Molly stood up and went into her hallway. She was just in time as she'd just shut the door to the Sitting Room when Sherlock opened the front door. Molly crossed her arms in front of her. Sherlock flounced in and stopped dead seeing Molly waiting for him. His eyes narrowed as he realised the Sitting Room door was shut.

“Molly” Sherlock acknowledged her.

“Sherlock” Molly replied.

Sherlock drew himself up to his full height and stood in front of Molly, towering down at her. Molly stood her ground, arms folded, eyebrows raised.

“Molly”. Sherlock growled in his especially deep ‘Molly you've been naughty voice’ “what are you doing with another man?”

Molly glowered at him, her back against the Sitting Room door.

“Why are you breaking into my flat?” She answered with her own question.

“To stop you doing something foolish. Now answer the question, Molly.” His hands came out and gripped her shoulders. Molly stubbornly didn't reply. Sherlock suddenly bent down and putting his hands round her waist, lifted her up and put her down the other side of him so he could access the door.

“Sherlock!” Molly complained.

Sherlock ignored her, he opened the door and stopped dead. Molly pushed passed him, closing the door behind them. Sherlock muttered something under his breath, all Molly caught was ‘Mycroft’.

“Finlay!” Molly called to the grey and white cat sprawled on her sofa. “This is Sherlock Holmes”. Finlay looked up at Sherlock and gave him the same dismissive look that he had given to Molly all day. Molly looked up at Sherlock who seemed to have a relieved look on his face until he caught Molly looking at him when his face instantly changed to his more usual impassive face. 

Sherlock settled himself into Molly's favourite armchair. Molly huffed to herself in annoyance and went into the Kitchen to put the kettle on.

"Coffee?" She called out to Sherlock who replied in the affirmative. Molly leant over the Kitchen worktop whilst waiting for the kettle to boil and observed Sherlock and Finlay. They were both staring at one another with the same disdainful look on both their faces. Molly grinned to herself as she remembered how Sherlock had tried in vain to win Toby's affection. There was only one person that Toby loved and that was Molly. She presumed that John must have told Sherlock about Toby's passing as he hadn't asked about him. Molly watched out of the corner of her eye whilst making the drinks to see who would win the staring competition. She didn't think that anybody would be able to outstare Sherlock but she had a feeling that he may have met his match on this occasion.

Just as she brought in the coffees she noticed that Sherlock blinked. He frowned at Finlay who gave him a smug kitty stare before starting to wash his paws. Molly let out a laugh which she quickly disguised as a cough as Sherlock's head whipped round to look at her. 

Finlay got up and wondered over to the Kitchen, giving Molly a glare as he walked passed her. He went over to his empty food bowl and gave a deep miaow. Molly went back to the Kitchen and opened some food for him. She spoke reassuringly to him but made no attempt to touch him.

On going back to the Sitting Room Molly realised that Sherlock had helped himself to the sofa and had swapped their coffees so that Molly could have her armchair back. Molly settled herself down.

"So, how are you Sherlock? You've had a pretty horrid time of it, I hear." Molly decided to just come out with it, then Sherlock could say what he had come to say and then they could go back to being what they were before. Friends, acquaintances, whatever their relationship has been for the last few years. What that relationship was Molly never really was too sure about.

Sherlock just hummed at her.

"I'm sorry about Toby". He sipped his coffee, not looking at her. Molly was surprised that he had mentioned it. John must have told him after all.  
"Thanks. It was quite sad but I had been expecting it for some time. He had a tumour in his mouth. I shall miss him though." Molly kept her tear-filled eyes averted from Sherlock knowing that he didn't do 'sentiment'.

"And now you have Finlay" Sherlock continued. "I'm surprised that you got a cat so soon, Molly. I know how much you loved Toby."

"I'm fostering him for a friend." As Molly said this Finlay strolled back into the room, stopping to casually wash his face before jumping up onto the sofa. He slumped himself down next to Sherlock, gave a mighty yawn and stretch and draped half of himself over Sherlock. The look on Sherlock's face was a picture. Molly hastily stifled a laugh and carried on.

"My friend works at a rescue centre. They're having a hard time rehoming him. He didn't have the best start in life." Molly stopped there, she didn't want Sherlock to get bored hearing about Finlay. Sherlock had other ideas. 

"What happened to him?" Molly looked up at him. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Sherlock casually stroking Finlay's head and Finlay looking up adoringly at him, Molly even heard him starting to purr. 

"He was placed into a family with young children. Finlay's personality didn't really fit in and they turfed him out. Poor soul, he's been moved from pillar to post ever since. He's different and so he's misunderstood." Molly looked straight at Sherlock then and saw two pairs of cold green eyes looking at her and it was only then that she realised what it was about Finlay that made her want to help him. He was the feline equivalent to Sherlock. Two identical stares watched her as she put her coffee cup down. Molly knew then that Finlay would be here to stay but what about Sherlock? Well that wasn't up to her. She swallowed suddenly and she stared down at her hands twisting in her lap.

"Molly about last week.........." Sherlock began to speak. Molly instantly jumped up out of her chair, startling Finlay who sat up. 

"God I didn't realise it was so late, are you staying, Sherlock? The spare room is all made up. You've still got some clothes in the dresser. I'm going to go to bed, if you leave please don't let Finlay out." Molly was halfway across the room when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

"Molly" Sherlock's voice rumbled. Molly let out a small whimper, she didn't want to hear it. She had waited impatiently all week for him to come to her and now he was here, she was scared of what he was going to say.

“I'm sorry” Sherlock’s voice was so low that Molly almost didn’t catch what he said. Molly’s heart sank. Sherlock stood behind her, his hand still on her arm. Finlay was winding his way round Molly’s legs, rubbing his head against her almost in sympathy. 

“It's ok, it's not your fault” Molly’s voice came out as a croak and she cleared her throat hastily.

“I should have told you sooner.” Sherlock admitted. He took a step closer to her. 

“Well you were busy with your parents and Eurus and everything that happened last week, you had more important things to worry about.” Molly’s voice was still croaky, she was trying so hard not to cry. ‘Don’t lose it now girl’ she told herself sternly.

The hand on her arm clenched. “What?” Sherlock muttered.

“I really appreciate you coming around to tell me and I know we'll still be friends but I need you to go now. I just need a bit of space” Molly was starting to lose her battle, two fat tears rolled down her face. She tried to pull her arm away but Sherlock just gripped it tighter.

“Molly, I think we may be talking at cross purposes. When I said I should have told you sooner, I meant I should have told you sooner that I love you.” 

Molly turned her head swiftly to look at his face. Sherlock looked sincere, his face slightly flushed. He took his hand off her arm and reached up as though to caress her face, but drew back and placed both hands firmly behind his back. 

“How can you bear it?” He asked suddenly staring at her intently.

“Bear what?” Molly asked. Did Sherlock just say that he loved her?

“I itch to touch you. Your hands, your face, to just hug you. I’ve felt like that for ages but you must have felt like this for years, how did you stop yourself?” His face went redder still as though embarrassed by his words. Molly frowned, puzzled.

“You don’t like being touched. Why would I do something to you that you wouldn’t like? I love you.” Molly shrugged “I want you to be happy. That’s what being in love means, doing things for someone else even if it’s not what you want.” Sherlock still stared at her as though trying to read her soul.

“But you like being touched” Sherlock was half talking to himself. “So if I touch you now you wouldn’t mind it, would you?” Molly shook her head, her gaze solemn. Sherlock brought his hand up to her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. Molly shut her eyes. Sherlock’s other hand came up to rest on her hair, tangling his fingers into the fine strands. His hand left her cheek and reaching down took her hand in his. He kissed her palm, Molly’s eyes flew open when he did this and then he pressed her hand onto his cheek. Molly’s fingers moved seemingly of their own free will, caressing his face before dropping down and round to the curls at the back of his head. She pulled his head down towards her and Sherlock took the hint and gently, lovingly kissed her. 

Molly felt like she was on fire and quickly responded, Sherlock gave a low moan before pulling her tightly towards him and deepening the kiss. They broke apart for air and Molly opened her eyes, Sherlock’s eyes were open but he seemed to be frozen, his hands hung limply at his side. Molly tried not to giggle but brought her hands up to cradle his face. Sherlock’s eyelids fluttered.

“Are you ok?” Molly whispered. Sherlock nodded, his eyes locked with hers for a moment before skittering away. Molly gave him a brief kiss and then stepped away from him.

“Well, it’s getting late, I’m going to go to bed. You can join me if you want.” Molly hid a grin as she heard Sherlock’s breath catch in his throat. “Just to sleep, or not… Whatever. Whatever and whenever you want is fine, Sherlock.” She smiled reassuringly at him and then moved away, stroking Finlay on the head as she passed, she walked into her bedroom but left the door invitingly open.

Sherlock stared after her, he looked at Finlay who stared at him back. Finlay yawned and purred faintly before helping himself to the sofa again. Sherlock paced the room huffing quietly to himself and making a decision, he quickly strode into Molly’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the idea for this fic when I went round to see some kittens. The lady had a lovely grey and white Maine Coon cat stretched across her Kitchen windowsill. I went to stroke him after being assured he was friendly. He turned his head to look at me and the glare! I just touched the tips of his fur before hastily moving my hand. The way he stared at me reminded me of Sherlock and it just came into my head, a scene of Molly being faced with the stare of Sherlock and the stare of a cat.
> 
> Apologies for the demise of Toby, but it is one reason for Molly's bad day. I've recently lost two cats, they were sisters and were both over 18 years of age. I loved them to bits. We now have two kittens which is why I went to see the lady in the first place. I'd like to point out that the cat I met isn't called Finlay and has not been in any way mistreated.


	9. Mister Holmes Makes A Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to Mister Holmes Meets His Match as suggested by Priscilla.

Molly woke up. Her nose was buried in between her pillow and the top of Sherlock’s back. She could hear the soft puffs of air escaping when he breathed out. She cautiously turned onto her back and yes as she’d guessed, she was right on the edge of the bed. Because despite this being HER bed, she only ever seemed to occupy a quarter of it. One half of the bed was occupied by a tall, dark and handsome Consulting Detective and the other quarter was occupied by Finlay, a grey and white Maine Coon cat. This was really most unfair especially as she fed, watered and brushed one regularly and the other was fed, watered and kept “entertained” for half the night.

Molly raised herself up on one elbow. Sherlock lay on his side, his dark curls in disarray and his face calm and serene. Finlay lay next to Sherlock on top of the duvet, his back and head lying against Sherlock and Sherlock’s hand lay across Finlay almost as though he had fallen asleep whilst stroking him. It would be nice, thought Molly, to wake up still in Sherlock’s arms. But Sherlock insisted on leaving the bedroom door open so Finlay could come in if he wanted and Finlay inevitably did.

Sherlock had been staying every night for the last two months, ever since that night when he had admitted that he loved her and Molly had invited him into her bedroom. That first night, they had kissed and cuddled one another before falling asleep and it was not until a week later that they had become intimate. Since then the two of them had become ever closer. 

It was Molly’s day off but she had still woken early so she decided to take a leisurely bath. She carefully got out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown. As she went passed her bed, Sherlock and Finlay were still cuddled together. They looked so sweet that Molly couldn’t resist and quickly grabbed her phone from the bedside table and took a photo of the two of them. 

Molly entered the bathroom, taking off her dressing gown preparatory to reaching down to turn on the taps. She froze. There at the bottom of the bath was a huge, hairy, brown spider. Molly was petrified of spiders. Her first thought was to get Toby, but unfortunately her hero spider slayer was no longer. Molly then thought of the hoover, but changed her mind quickly as she did not want Sherlock to hear the hoover running. Over seven years Sherlock had known her and for several of those years he had used her flat as a bolt hole yet he was completely unaware of Molly’s fear of spiders. Molly had no wish for today to be the day that he found out. 

Molly crept back into her bedroom and found Sherlock and Finlay still asleep. She quickly grabbed Finlay before he could complain and hefted him up into her arms before running back into the Bathroom. She dumped him in the bath.

“Finlay, look! Look at that, Finlay. Catch it, catch!”. Finlay stared at Molly with his icy green eyes, before yawning hugely. Molly huffed. “Come on! Catch it” and she pushed Finlay towards it, whilst mentally preparing herself to run in the opposite direction. She made several attempts to get Finlay interested but to no avail. She was unaware that a figure had appeared in the Bathroom next to her.

“Are you going to give Finlay a bath, Molly?” The deep baritone voice of her beloved made Molly jump. She turned quickly, clutching her chest.

“Sherlock! You made me jump.” Molly scolded him, Sherlock merely raised his eyebrows and jerked his head enquiringly in Finlay’s direction. “No of course I’m not giving him a bath. He was trying to drink out of the tap. He jumped in there himself” Molly lied defiantly.

Sherlock and Finlay exchanged identical looks of disbelief. Molly was starting to believe that the pair could communicate telepathically. Finlay glanced down to the other end of the bath and Sherlock’s gaze followed his. A smirk lit up his face. Finlay jumped out of the bath and sauntered off after glaring at Molly.

“Nothing to do with that spider then Molly?” quizzed Sherlock.

“Spider? What spider? Oh that! No not at all.” Molly had her fingers crossed behind her back. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to your bath. Don’t spend too long in there”. Sherlock turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Molly shrieked. Sherlock turned, barely concealing his grin. “Please can you take the spider away, Sherlock” Molly whispered quietly.

“Surely you’re not scared of that tiny little thing?” Sherlock reached into the bath and gently touched the spider who scuttled down the bath. Molly bit back a scream and hurtled out of the bathroom into the safety of her bedroom, shutting the door firmly.

Sherlock came in a few minutes later. Molly had heard him opening the door to her flat.

“It’s gone. You know if you left a towel hanging down the inside of the bath he’d have been able to get out by himself……..”

“And let him run around all over the flat, no thanks.” Molly sat on the edge of the bed trying to calm down. Sherlock sat down next to her and casually took her hand. Molly thought he was being comforting until his hand made its way to her wrist and she realised what he was doing.

“Are you taking my pulse?” Molly wrenched her hand away. Sherlock wasn’t grinning now though.

“Christ Molly, your pulse is racing. You really are petrified of them aren’t you? Why on earth…….”

“I don’t know” snapped Molly. “The number of times I’ve told myself that I’m being silly but it makes no difference, the minute I see one I want to run for the hills. It doesn’t help having my boyfriend laugh at me either.” Molly noticed him wince when she used the word ‘boyfriend’.

“Boyfriend. I don’t like the term boyfriend.” He muttered under his breath.

“Well what else do I call you? Partner? Other half? Significant Other?” Sherlock grimaced at all of those. Molly started feeling frustrated. She got off of the bed and moved towards the now spider-less Bathroom. “Perhaps you should make an honest woman out of me then” She muttered under her breath. Sherlock looked at her quizzically and then his face cleared in comprehension. Molly flushed and quickly fled to the Bathroom. 

\----------------------------------------------  
That afternoon Molly went round to John’s house to look after Rosie while John went out with Sherlock to solve a case. John answered the door and ushered her inside. 

“Rosie’s asleep upstairs. There’s plenty of food in the fridge.” John grabbed his coat and turned to give Molly a hug when he stopped and stared at her. 

“Molly, what’s wrong?” Molly was visibly shaking.

“I think Sherlock might be thinking about proposing.” Molly sat on the sofa, grabbing one of Rosie’s stuffed toys and hugging it to her. 

“What makes you think that?” John asked mildly. He didn’t mention the text message he had received from Sherlock a few days ago saying that he wanted to propose to Molly.

“I said he should make an honest woman out of me.” Molly stated in a small voice. “I was talking to myself really but he overheard and then he got that look on his face. The ‘I’m pondering’ face.”

“And you don’t want to?” John guessed by the glum expression on her face.

“Of course I do. It’s not the engagement or the getting married that’s the problem.” Molly hugged the toy closer to her.

“What is the problem then?” John sat next to her on the sofa and gently hugged her to him. Molly sighed and laid her head on his chest, grateful for the closeness of a good friend.

“When dad was ill, I made him a promise. He wanted me to wear mum’s engagement and wedding rings if I got married and I promised I would. But how can I tell Sherlock that? I don’t even know if he’s going to ask and I don’t want to scare him off if I’ve misunderstood.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “So the engagement ring you had with Tom, that was your mother’s?”

Molly shook her head. “Tom bought the engagement ring before he asked. I didn’t like to say I didn’t want to wear it. You see the problem?”

“Leave it with me, Molly” John reassured her. He at least knew that Sherlock was definitely going to ask and he was sure that Sherlock would be fine with it.

\------------------------------------------

It was a few days later when Molly had her next day off and she decided to go shopping for something specific. It didn’t take her long to find and when she made her way home, she dumped her bags on the kitchen counter, made herself a cup of tea, then fed Finlay and stroked him behind the ears. Finlay for once accepted her caress before continuing with his meal. She downloaded the CD that she had bought onto her Ipod and slipping her headphones on, lay back on her bed and started to listen.

She hadn’t been listening long when she felt her bed dip and looking up found herself being joined by Sherlock and his faithful follower Finlay. Molly paused her Ipod.

“What you listening to?” Sherlock asked after kissing her sweetly on the lips as a hello.

“Nothing exciting.” Molly replied evasively. Sherlock however had found the CD and he smirked at the title.

“Self-hypnosis – cure your fear of spiders” He quoted. “Molly, you do realise this isn’t going to work don’t you?” He admonished her. Molly frowned at him.

“Thanks for your support, Sherlock. I’d thought I’d give it a try, you never know it might work.” Sherlock wasn’t really listening, he was fiddling with her Ipod setting up her Bluetooth speakers. 

“Let’s both listen then.” He flashed her another smirk and Molly internally groaned. She knew then that it was doomed to failure but she would be damned before she would let him see that.

They settled down to listen, Finlay lay asleep beside Sherlock’s feet. Molly tried to convince herself that she was going into a trance like state but she knew it wasn’t working. It didn’t help that the man’s voice was really annoying, he sounded as though he was speaking to a child.

“You hear a knocking at your door, you answer it, look down and there on the floor is a tiny spider wearing clown shoes. The spider is crying because you don’t like him.”

Molly bit her lip hard. She glanced at Sherlock who was sat back against the pillows, eyes tightly shut, impassive as ever - except for the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Molly couldn’t help herself. She started to giggle and then let out a very unladylike snort. Then she heard it. It started out as a rumble and then came out as a roar of laughter. She snapped her head round. Sherlock was laughing! Laughing so much, tears were running down his cheeks. Molly stared at him, a smile still on her face but her laughter stopping. She’d never seen him laugh like that before. She felt an ache in her chest for this gorgeous man who had seen the worst of times recently. She pulled herself up, flinging herself onto his chest and burying her head into his neck. Silent tears dripped onto him.

“Molly? What’s the matter? I’m sorry I laughed.” Sherlock choked out, trying unsuccessfully to prise her away from his neck. Molly just hugged him tighter. “Molly?”

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that Sherlock, it’s made me realise just how much I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. You should laugh like that more”

Sherlock managed to move away from her so that he could cup her face with one of his hands. He put his other hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small box.

“It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me, Molly”. He opened the box and inside was her mother’s diamond engagement ring, which had been cleaned and polished. Molly didn’t even realise he’d taken it. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, Molly?” He asked huskily.

Molly flung her arms around him.

“Yes, please. Sherlock.” Sherlock placed the ring on her finger before tenderly kissing her.

“You don’t mind using my mother’s ring?” Molly queried anxiously. Sherlock quickly shook his head.

“Not at all, it’s a lovely ring.” Sherlock stroked her hair lovingly. “But I’ve also got you this for an engagement present” and he pulled out another box from his jacket pocket. He gave it to Molly to open. Inside was a charm bracelet and it had two charms on it, one was a golden heart and one was an exact copy of her mother’s engagement ring in miniature. Molly gasped in wonder.

“It’s beautiful, Sherlock. Thank you.” And she kissed him.

“I love you Molly” He whispered. 

“There’s a few conditions though, Mr Holmes” Molly suddenly said with a frown on her face. Sherlock instantly stilled, a hundred scenarios going around in his head.

“Yes?” He asked hesitantly.

“Number one, I don’t mind where we live, I suspect you’d prefer Baker Street, but we need a bigger bed if you are going to insist on Finlay sleeping with us. Which leads to number two. Finlay isn’t the only one you likes to wake up being cuddled, and I know you cuddle him, I have the photographic evidence to prove it. If you don’t want that photo circulating amongst our friends I suggest you should be cuddling your fiancée more often.” Molly raised her eyebrows at him and smiled at him coquettishly.

“Ok. Fine.” Sherlock mock huffed, smiling as well.

“And third and most important, you’re in charge of spider management because Finlay is hopeless!” Molly grinned at him, pulling him closer to her for a passionate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate spiders and it's that time of year again. No spiders were harmed in the making of this fic.


	10. Mister Holmes - Wedding Fiasco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are underway for Molly and Sherlock's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Mister Holmes Meets His Match and Mister Holmes Makes A Proposal

Molly flung herself onto the bed narrowly missing Finlay who had made himself at home on Sherlock’s bed just as happily as on Molly’s. She pressed her face into the pillow and let the tears that she had been suppressing flow now that she was on her own. 

She lay there for a quite a while until she heard the front door slam and the unmistakeable sound of Sherlock’s footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock had been away for several days on a case. Molly hastily wiped her face and smoothed her hair before walking out into the Sitting Room just as Sherlock opened the door.

“The wedding’s off.” Molly burst out. Sherlock froze, mouth half open in greeting her, hands on his coat about to take it off. Molly averted her eyes and so missed the confused and hurt expression on his face before it smoothed out into his normal calm façade.

“Ok, well don’t let me keep you Molly, I’m sure you can’t wait to get back to your flat.” Molly flinched at the coldness in his voice, a coldness she hadn’t heard for quite some time.

“You want me to leave!” Molly whispered incredulously. Sherlock frowned.

“This is my flat after all, you’ve not given up your flat yet, so yes, that would be the best solution.” Sherlock finished taking off his coat, flung it on the sofa and strode to the window, his back to Molly.

“Right, fine! I’ll just pack a few things.” Molly went back into their bedroom, slamming the door after her. She couldn’t understand how it could have got to this point so quickly, Sherlock didn’t even want to talk about it. No wedding, no relationship obviously. She bit back the fresh tears that threatened, she would shed those once she had got back to her flat. She started stuffing some of her clothes into a holdall, gave Finlay one last stroke and then walked back out into the Living Room.

Sherlock was still in the same position looking out of the window, his back ramrod straight. 

“I’m going then.” Molly picked up her handbag and coat and strode to the door.

“What about Finlay? Aren’t you taking him?” Sherlock voice was hoarse and low. Molly blinked back tears and cleared her throat.

“No. Let’s face it he’s always been more your cat than mine. If it’s ok with you, then I think he should stay here.” Sherlock nodded and Molly stared at his back, willing him to turn round and take her into his arms. …..Nothing. Molly sighed, reached out to open the door, turning for one last look at the man she loved before closing it quietly behind her.

\-------------------------------------------

She was halfway down the street before a hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her round. She gasped and made to fling the holdall at her assailant before realising it was Sherlock. He stood there, looming over her, white as a sheet with unshed tears glistening in his green catlike eyes.

“Please Molly.” He begged. “Whatever I did wrong, can’t I make it better? Please don’t leave me.” He dropped his head onto his chest, squeezing his eyes tight shut. A lone tear tracked its way down his face.

“You asked me to leave.” Molly muttered. She was confused and also a bit awed with the depth of Sherlock’s emotions.

“You said you didn’t want to marry me. Please whatever I did wrong, let me make it right.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you Sherlock”. Molly half yelled at him. “It’s not you that’s the problem. It’s your mother.” 

……………………..

Molly soon found herself back at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock had flung her holdall back in the bedroom before making mugs of hot chocolate for both them. Molly knew how difficult Sherlock found it to verbally express his love for her. But he showed it constantly and it was the little things that she loved the most. She was now ensconced on the sofa under a warm snuggly blanket cradling her hot chocolate complete with marshmallows. Sherlock was sat next to her with his feet on the coffee table, his own hot chocolate (no marshmallows) cooling on the table. 

“So your mum didn’t phone you then? You don’t know what happened at the dress shop?” Molly broke the silence that had befallen them since they’d arrived back at the flat.

Sherlock picked up his phone and grimaced. He handed it to Molly. He must have put his phone on silent. There were four missed calls from his mother, three from Anthea and one from his brother, Mycroft. Molly whistled under her breath.

“I put it on silent this morning, must have forgotten to turn it off.” Sherlock turned to look at Molly, his face serious. “So the wedding’s off then? What happened, Molly?”

“Everything’s happened!” Molly exclaimed in frustration. “When you and I were discussing the wedding, it was all so simple. Just a small gathering, nothing too fancy. Then your mum got involved and suddenly it’s hundreds of guests, a flipping great marquee in your parents back garden, imported flowers, instead of a car I’m arriving in a coach and four, you’re wearing a top hat and tails and as for the dress……….” Molly broke off suddenly. Her breath caught in her throat and she put down her hot chocolate, pulled off the blanket and stood up. 

She moved across the room and turned to face Sherlock. He still looked pale, his fingers trembled slightly where they were clasped together in his lap. He stared intently at her.

“You had chosen your dress. You went with Clarissa to choose a dress weeks ago.” Sherlock stated flatly picking up his hot chocolate.

“And guess what? Your mother didn’t like it, it wasn’t good enough. She’s got me to wear something that makes me look like I’m wearing a meringue, it’s hideous and way over the top for me. It was the last straw, Sherlock. I know your family are paying for the wedding and I appreciate it but it’s turning into a circus and I’m not taking part any more. It’s supposed to be about us and what we feel for one another, our commitment to one another.” Molly flung herself back onto the sofa with such force that Sherlock bounced in his seat and splashed hot chocolate over his pristine white shirt.

“Is that everything?” Sherlock queried in a small voice.

Molly drew in a huge breath. “No.” She let out her breath slowly. “She then asked me who was giving me away, was scandalised when I said no one. Sherlock you know……” Molly sniffed “You know I’d only ever want my dad, he’s the only one…..” Molly didn’t finish as Sherlock reached over to her, pulling her gently onto his lap and holding her close to him. 

They stayed like that for a while until they became aware of a commotion on the stairs as what sounded like a herd of elephants stomped up the stairs. Molly and Sherlock stared at one another and Molly knew this was make or break time for their relationship. Because Sherlock always tuned out when his family was around and Molly was always left to fight their corner on her own. 

But not this time. Molly pushed herself off of Sherlock, her gaze meeting his again for a moment and his eyes widened as he realised what she was silently asking him to do. Molly turned and ran into the bathroom, locking herself in. She sank onto the small wicker sofa that Sherlock has insisted on putting in there so that he could sit and talk to her while she had one of her interminable baths (his description). She felt something furry at her feet and looked down to see Finlay weaving himself around her before he jumped up to lie half on her and half on the sofa. Molly tentatively stroked his fur and was rewarded by Finlay’s comforting purr.

She was aware of loud voices but couldn’t make out what was being said. She could hear Sherlock and Sherlock’s mother most of all but could also hear Mycroft and Anthea.

“That’s enough!” Molly was shocked to hear the enraged voice of Sherlock’s normally placid father. The voices stilled. Molly could hear Mr Holmes senior talking quietly but couldn’t hear what he was saying. Finlay nudged her as her fingers had stilled against him and she obediently restarted stroking him.

Then there was quiet, she heard the front door slamming and soon after the tentative tapping at the door to the Bathroom.

“Molly? Are you ok? Can I come in?” Sherlock’s reassuringly calm voice was all Molly needed to hear to open the door. She looked at him nervously, knowing that she had just ran away instead of staying with him to face his mother. Sherlock just calmly took her into his arms, swept her off her feet and carried her back into the Sitting Room where he settled her on his lap throwing the snuggly blanket over the two of them. Molly snuggled into his chest just content to listen to his heart beating.

“Mycroft’s going to cancel that fiasco of a wedding.” Molly stiffened at Sherlock’s words, her breath came out in a harsh gasp but she just nodded, trying to hide her tears in Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock pulled away from her and lifted her head so that he could plant a kiss on her lips, his thumb stroking her tears away.

“Molly, I want to marry you more than anything but I want our wedding to be what you want, what we both want, not what mummy wants. God I’ve never seen Father so cross with her when he realised how she’d run roughshod over your feelings. So if you agree I think we should go back to what we originally planned, a small wedding, just family and close friends.” Sherlock kissed her lightly on the lips again before pulling her back in for another hug.

“What about your mother?” Molly was anxious, she didn’t want to be the cause of a rift between Sherlock and his mum.

“She’ll come round. Father will talk to her, I think she just got a bit carried away. After all I don’t think Mycroft and Lady Smallwood will want a big do so I think she was pinning her hopes on us. She loves you Molly, she thinks the world of you and once everything has calmed down she’ll be round to apologise and will probably buy you a huge present to make up for it.” Sherlock laughed. “Besides she’s looking forward to having grandchildren.” Molly blushed and then giggled.

“But what about you Sherlock? Is this what you want?” 

Sherlock smiled at her, answering her in his own way, by kissing her.


End file.
